Behold the child, by Natures kindly law,Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw;Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight,A little louder, but as empty quite;Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage,And beads and prayer-books are the toys of age.Pleased with this bauble still, as that before,Till tired he sleeps, and lifes poor play is oer.